The Transport
by volley
Summary: What's going on with Malcolm, after he transports back from a planet?
1. Chapter 1

This story is set around the end of season two.

Thank you to SitaZ and RoaringMice for beta reading; and to Gabi2305 for her welcome advice.

111

Trip's muscles automatically tensed as he slowly pulled down the transporter's levers one more time. _Come on, come on,_ he silently urged, his concentration focused on the readings before him.

_Damn_ _him and his sense of duty, _he silently cursed, _why couldn't he wait for the shuttlepod to bring him up? _

Enterprise had been orbiting an M-class planet, and teams were mapping it and collecting samples. Malcolm had gone down to plant charges so that the science team could get some mineral specimens, but had asked to be transported back, stubbornly insisting that there was nothing else for him to do planet side and that his time was best spent in the Armoury.

"Trip, have you got him?" Archer's voice rang out. There was an edge to it that easily carried through the comm. link.

Trip glanced before him at the transporter area and then back at his readings. "Somethin's wrong, Capt'n, I can't seem to..." his voice died away as he cut everything out to concentrate solely on the task at hand.

"Trip?" Archer pressed.

Trip briefly pursed his lips before answering, "It looks like there might be some sort of contaminant in the data stream." A tiny part of his mind registered with astonishment that his voice sounded in control when his guts were a contorted knot. "Hold on... I think I might have him," he added just seconds later, glancing back up at the area in front of him.

Something flickered there, a fuzzy image that didn't seem to want to become reality, to take on flesh and bones. Then, slowly, Malcolm's shape took form.

"Bridge, I've got him," Trip shouted as he abandoned his position behind the console to hurry to his friend. Malcolm looked wobbly and confused.

"You alright?" Trip asked tautly as he got near him. Fighting the irrational fear that his hands would go right through Malcolm, he reached out and grabbed hold of the lieutenant's arms to steady him. Malcolm immediately anchored himself onto Trip and closed his eyes.

"Malcolm, what is it?" Trip asked again, with urgency.

Malcolm opened his eyes and blinked a couple of times, shaking his head as if to clear it. After a moment he appeared to realise where he was and met Trip's frowning gaze. "Nothing," he choked out, his hoarse voice belying the meaning of that single word. He took a step and stumbled. Trip caught him just in time before he collapsed to the floor, and gently helped him to sit down on the steps leading off the transporter's area.

"Doctor Phlox, report to the transporter room," the engineer shouted, knowing the comm. link was open.

"On my way," the doctor chimed.

Archer's anxious voice sounded again, in stark contrast with Phlox's incongruously cheerful tone. "Trip, is something wrong?"

"I've got him, Capt'n, but he seems pretty shaky," Trip replied, studying Malcolm's pale face. Not that his friend's face was ever anything other than pale, except for when he blushed, he tried to reassure himself.

Malcolm let his head fall forward and pressed two fingers onto his eyes. "All this fuss isn't necessary, I'm fine," he feebly protested. "Just a little dizzy."

"I had a hard time re-materialising you." Trip sounded tense, and his hands were still firmly on Malcolm's arms. "My readings said there was contaminant in the data stream."

Malcolm slowly raised his chin from his chest. He glanced at the engineer before breaking free of his grip and looking at his own hands, turning them around a couple of times. "I don't see anything that's not supposed to be there," he murmured. He shrugged and shook his head again, still looking a bit dazed.

Trip heaved a deep breath, but it did nothing to ease his mind. The transporter was one piece of equipment that made him a little uncomfortable, especially lately. He didn't advertise it, but deep down the idea that a person's molecules were pulled apart and then put together again, gave him the creeps. Particularly after that little incident when Hoshi had been trapped in the buffer for a few seconds and had thought she was disintegrating. What if the man working the damn machine made a mistake? He shuddered at the thought and saw Malcolm cast him a peering glance.

The lieutenant tilted his head and forced his lips into a smirk. "Quit worrying, Trip," he said, his voice a little stronger. "I'm fine." Lifting his eyebrows, he added with a soft chuckle, "Looks like you haven't managed to get rid of me yet."

Malcolm's joke finally lessened Trip's tension a little. Just then Archer and Phlox came rushing in, and the Doctor immediately knelt down near Reed, tricorder in hand.

Archer strode up to the two of them. "What happened?" he demanded, shifting his gaze from his Chief Engineer to his Armoury Officer and back again.

"I had readings sayin' that the data stream was contaminated," Trip repeated yet one more time, passing a nervous hand through his hair. "For a moment I feared we'd have another accident like that time with Novakovich."

"I'm all right, Captain," Reed said, his voice now steady. "I just felt a little light-headed for a moment, but it has passed."

"Lieutenant Reed seems to be perfectly fine," Phlox merrily announced, getting up.

"That's what I've been saying all along," Malcolm muttered, and Trip's features finally relaxed into a grin.

"This of course doesn't mean you can skip decon, Lieutenant," Phlox warned.

"What makes you think I'd want to do that, Doctor?" Reed asked in mock surprise. "Unlike sickbay, I actually enjoy the decon chamber." He pushed to his feet. Archer and Trip automatically held out steadying hands and Malcolm shot them a self-conscious glance.

"There are only a couple of hours left till the end of your shift, Malcolm. Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" Archer suggested

Reed straightened his shoulders. "Sir, I see no reason for it," he replied resolutely. "I feel fine and there is a job in the Armoury I really would like to finish up."

Trip rolled his eyes to Archer and the Captain smiled knowingly; then he turned serious again. "All right, Lieutenant," he said. "But don't overdo it. And if you feel dizzy again, I want you to go to sickbay immediately."

"Understood, Sir," Reed replied formally. Nodding to his superiors, he left.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

222

The alarm clock went off and Malcolm rolled on his side and reached out blindly to switch it off, grunting when the movement caused him to get wrapped in his sheet like a mummy. _Tossing and turning all night will do that to you_, he thought peevishly. He tried to loosen the grip of that sudden straitjacket but found that the only way was to roll back to his former prone position. Falling back on his pillow, he let out a deep sigh and allowed himself a few minutes of laziness, reviewing in his mind the tasks of the day ahead. Feeling his breathing getting deeper again, however, and his consciousness perilously keen to answer the siren call of oblivion, he reluctantly pushed himself up and off the bed.

Yawning, he shuffled to the bathroom. His head felt heavy. _Bugger, I hope it's not my allergies_. _That planet was just one whole big plant_. He quickly dismissed the distressing thought, however; his sluggishness was more likely the consequence of interrupted sleep: his night had been one bad dream after the other. And speaking of nightmares, the end of his previous shift had been a disturbing couple of hours. The dizziness had not returned, but he had had an impossible time concentrating on anything. In the end he had declared himself defeated and turned in early. A good night's sleep, he'd thought, would make him like new. Of course, that was before he'd realised what a hellish night he'd have. After a night like last night he felt anything but rested.

He opened the tap and splashed some cold water on his face. That, at least, helped him a little, and he quickly went on to shower and shave. Twenty minutes later he was ready to leave his quarters.

Still feeling groggy and not in a particularly good mood, he entered the mess hall and immediately spotted Trip sitting at a table with a padd in his hands and a cup of what must undoubtedly be strong coffee in front of him.

Malcolm grabbed a tray and automatically laid it with pancakes and a cup of tea; then walked up to the engineer.

"Morning," he said flatly as he waited, standing, for Trip to acknowledge his presence.

"Hey, Malcolm," Trip drawled, raising his eyes. "Don't just stand there like some kind of toy soldier," he added playfully. "I give you permission to sit down," he said with a chuckle.

"I'm only being polite, Commander" Malcolm said in his clipped accent, as he slid into a seat. He raised his eyes to find Trip looking at him with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Got up on the wrong side of the bed?" the engineer asked, glancing at him briefly before turning his attention back to his padd.

Malcolm narrowed his eyes. "I beg your pardon?" he replied.

Trip raised his gaze again, long enough to shoot him a baffled look. "I said: did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?" he repeated slowly, as if speaking to a child.

"Didn't sleep well," Malcolm replied tersely.

"Well, that's surprisin'," Trip said with another chuckle. "I came by your quarters last night to see if you were alright, but you must've been sleepin' like a log; didn't even hear the bell."

"There was no need for you to check on me, I believe I had told you I was fine," Malcolm complained, frowning at the revelation. It wasn't like him to sleep through a chime.

"Snappy this mornin', aren't we?" Trip commented.

Malcolm's fork stopped in mid air and his brow furrowed even more. "Am I? Well, you'll have to forgive me," he said wryly. "I feel as if my brains are under water," he mumbled, as if to himself.

That got Trip's full attention. Seeing the engineer look up sharply and study him in concern, Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, Trip, I only said I'm feeling a little sluggish. Rest assured: I'm not about to faint face down on my pancakes," he ranted.

"Could it have anythin' to do with yesterday's accident?" Trip asked tensely, oblivious to his friend's irritation.

"Trip, there was _no_ accident, yesterday," Malcolm ground out in a crescendo of frustration.

Trip didn't appear convinced. "You _were_ confused. Maybe you oughtta vis…"

"Don't say it," Malcolm brusquely interrupted him. "Just don't," he warned darkly. He put down his fork, giving up for good on eating his breakfast, and leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not a five-year-old. I can take care of myself," he said crossly.

Malcolm heard Trip huff and stole a glance in his direction. Concern was not the only feeling in his friend's eyes now.

"Why do I even try?" Trip growled. "I oughtta know you by now, you always have to play the hero and can never accept anybody's help."

"All right, all right," Malcolm burst out, jumping to his feet. He knew Trip would keep pestering him until he obtained what he wanted. And if he didn't comply willingly his friend would undoubtedly pull rank and order him. "You win. I'm going to sickbay," he spat. Without another word, he strode out of the mess hall, leaving behind his untouched breakfast, and a puzzled Chief Engineer.

* * *

Malcolm entered sickbay to find the doctor emitting some strange, clucking noises in front of one of his cages. The sight did nothing to improve his mood; Phlox's shows of affection towards his strange creatures, for some reason, had always had the power to get on his nerves. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he himself wasn't the type of person who was comfortable showing his feelings, and found it absolutely baffling that somebody might display any attachment towards a slug or a bat or… whatever the clawed creature in that cage was called.

"Doctor?" he peevishly called out to him when he realised Phlox had not reacted to his coming in.

"Mr. Reed, how nice to see you!" Phlox's voice had such 'oomph' that it sounded as if he hadn't seen Malcolm in years. "What brings you to sickbay?" he asked, professional curiosity coated in unrestrained glee.

Malcolm cringed, fully regretting his decision to give in to Trip's pressure. Perhaps if he minimised his discomfort he would be able to keep the visit short and painless. _Don't be such a child!_ he reprimanded himself. _Only an idiot would keep things from his doctor._

"I'm having difficulty concentrating, Doctor," he forced out before he could have second thoughts. "My head feels a little heavy, as if I were getting a cold or an allergy."

"Have you experienced any more dizziness?" Phlox enquired, blessedly turning serious.

Malcolm instinctively crossed his arms over his chest. "No, not any more," he firmly replied.

"Very well. Please, come this way." Phlox said, motioning him towards a biobed. Malcolm hopped to sit onto it.

"Hmm, we didn't miss any of your allergy shots, did we?" Phlox perfunctorily asked, as he passed the tricorder over Malcolm.

"As far as I know, we're up to date with them."

"And you did clear decon after coming back from the planet, did you not?" Phlox went on to enquire.

Malcolm doubted the doctor's memory was that short. "Yes," he replied with a condescending sigh.

Silence fell as Phlox studied his readings. "A clean bill of health," he cheerfully pronounced, lowering his scanner and taking a step back. His voice suddenly plunged a few tones lower as he added dismissively, "Perhaps you are overtired or slept badly."

'_Slept badly' is an understatement_, Malcolm thought, hopping off the biobed. "I did have a bit of a rough night," he said. He hesitated a moment, then asked, "Is there… anything you can give me to make me feel more awake and present?" It was a dangerous question. You never knew what cures Phlox might suggest.

"Hmm," the doctor considered, holding his chin. "I don't like to give unnecessary medication…" he trailed. "Let's see if you can win this _battle_ on your own," he eventually concluded in the low, growling voice he sometimes used when he was convinced he was saying something funny.

Malcolm forced his mouth into a wry smile; he was slowly becoming aware of a growing anxiety in the pit of his stomach. What in heaven's name was going on with him? Not that sickbay would ever be conductive to relaxation, he mulled

Phlox gave him one of his face-splitting grins. "I'm sure once you get into your Armoury you'll be fine, Lieutenant," he chimed. "But if your symptoms persist, come back to see me."

Malcolm nodded curtly. "Thank you, Doctor," he said, marching to the doors.

* * *

Orbiting a planet meant that bridge duty was reduced to a minimum. Malcolm spent some fifteen minutes at tactical, just to make sure everything looked all right and sensors weren't picking up anything suspicious, then left the station to a relief crewman and headed for the Armoury.

Walking along the corridor he tried to ignore the sluggishness he still felt and the uneasiness that by now had his guts in a firm grip. Where the hell had that come from? Perhaps it was guilt for having gratuitously treated Trip in such an uncouth way. His friend was right, after all; he did have a stubborn streak to his character - it was a Reed trait. Not that following Trip's advice and reporting to sickbay had done anything to help him, mind you. Heaving a deep breath, Malcolm clamped down on his unaccountable distress and walked on.

When he entered his domain he found his team busy at work. He looked around with open satisfaction – his people were a fine group.

"Good morning, Lietutenant," his SIC, Ensign Müller, greeted him.

"Morning Ensign," Malcolm replied crisply. "Anything to report?"

"Aye, Sir," he said, joining Malcolm. Müller handed him a padd. "Commander Tucker stopped by to say that Engineering needed to re-route some of the power allocated to the Armoury. Since we are in orbit around a planet he got permission from the Captain to carry out tests for the upgrading of the warp drive."

Malcolm schooled his features as neutral as possible but felt a flare of irritation. "Thank you," he said, accepting the padd. _Damn_, he silently cursed as he realised just how little power they had been left with, _this will leave the ship much too vulnerable. Don't Trip and the Captain ever think of security?_

He climbed the few steps to the main console and made to call up the weapons systems' schematics, to check what could be powered in case of necessity with the amount of _juice_ Engineering had been kind enough to leave them. Immediately the feeling of unease increased to a distressing degree. Malcolm's hand hovered, as if afraid to access the information, and his pulse accelerated. He felt a rush of adrenaline. What the hell was wrong with him? He was so tense you'd think he was getting ready to face a squadron of Klingon birds-of-prey. It was quite disturbing, and Malcolm consciously unclenched his jaw, trying to regain control.

_Get a grip, Malcolm Reed! _

Forcing himself to breathe deeply and slowly, he tapped in his access code and the weapons systems' schematics appeared on the display. For a moment he looked at them as if mesmerised; then he felt his chest tighten with renewed anxiety; he closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the console, deeply troubled. Phlox couldn't have been more wrong: the Armoury was doing nothing to make him feel better. He must leave. He didn't know why, but he was certain he must go some place else. Turning away from the console, he looked for Müller.

"Ensign, would you please assess which systems can be used with the amount of power we currently have at our disposal and submit your evaluation to me as soon as it is ready?" he asked, keeping a frail control on his features and voice. "I'll be back shortly."

Müller shot him a look, but if he was surprised by this unexpected order didn't show it. This was the sort of decision-taking job Reed would normally do himself. The ensign immediately replied 'Aye, Sir,' and nodded. Malcolm headed for the door, strangely eager to put some distance between himself and the Armoury.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

333

"All right, then. Let's try it one more time," Trip shouted from atop the platform in front of the warp engine. He took a couple of steps to look out, trying to see behind the right-hand corner of the engine. "You ready, Mike?" he asked.

"Ready, Commander," Ensign Rostov answered.

"Check those levels carefully," he called out, as he took position again in front of the impressive machine. "Initiatin' simulation now."

Trip took a deep breath and began to tap into his controls, one-hundred percent concentrated on his job. "How's it goin'?" he shouted, after a moment.

"Rising fast, Commander," Rostov's voice replied.

"Damn," Trip muttered under his breath. He punched a few commands in. "How 'bout now?"

"Still rising. Almost reaching danger level."

Trip let out a frustrated grunt. "Cutting off," he called out in an exasperated voice. He turned to climb down from his elevated station and saw Malcolm standing at the foot of the platform, looking up at the warp engine.

"I'm a little busy now, Malcolm," he said flatly, as he quickly climbed down the rungs. He was pretty sure the lieutenant was there to complain about the power he'd diverted from the Armoury and he wasn't looking forward to an argument with him right now; especially having seen the fine mood in which Malcolm seemed to be that morning. In fact, he was still kind of pissed off at him from earlier.

Malcolm didn't reply, and Trip turned to see his friend now looking at him, his brow knitted in a frown.

"Look, I know what you have come here for," Trip said in a quiet but determined voice as he faced him squarely. "But, trust me, you might as well turn around and go back to your Armoury, because these tests have been approved by the Capt'n. You'll get all the power you want in a few hours, after they're finished," he concluded firmly, moving off to check on Rostov.

"Trip…"

"Everythin' ok, Mike?" Trip called out from a few steps away, ignoring Malcolm. He really didn't have time for a confrontation with Reed now.

"Yes, Commander," Rostov's voice replied. "Levels are slowly coming down again."

"Trip…"

Malcolm could be a real pain when he wanted to. "I thought I'd made myself clear, _Lieutenant_," Trip snapped, turning to him sharply.

A few heads turned at the harsh tone of his voice, but only for a moment. Trip's people were quite accustomed to these sorts of skirmishes between their boss and Lieutenant Reed. They knew they were like fireworks, loud but not meant to hurt, and short-lived.

Malcolm just stood there looking lost and the rest of Trip's tirade died in his throat. This wasn't the belligerent Reed he'd thought he'd be facing.

The use of rank, however, had its usual immediate effect. Malcolm straightened his shoulders and pursed his lips. He mumbled, "Yes, Sir," and turned to leave.

_What the hell?_ Trip ran after him and grabbed him by an arm.

"Hold on a moment, Malcolm," he said a lot more gently, turning him around. Malcolm's body felt tense and his eyes seemed… frightened? Trip was not sure. Fear was an emotion that he couldn't remember ever seeing clearly in Malcolm's eyes.

The engineer scratched his neck. "What is it you wanted?" he asked mildly. "I just realised I haven't even asked you," he added sheepishly.

Malcolm just looked at him without speaking, so Trip sighed and said, "Hell, Malcolm, I'm sorry. You know I get all worked up when I'm tryin' things to make my baby go faster."

Malcolm smirked. "That's all right," he said quietly. "I… I don't really know what I've come here for." He turned to leave.

Trip reached out and grabbed him again. "What do you mean?" he asked perplexedly. "Are you alright? What did Phlox say?"

"Commander," Rostov's voice floated out from behind the warp engine. "Levels are down to zero. Are we going to try one more time?" Trip looked up briefly but didn't acknowledge him.

"Clean bill of health," Malcolm replied with a small smile that didn't reach his eyes. He glanced in the direction from where Rostov's voice had come. "I believe Rostov is waiting for an answer," he said, shifting his gaze to Trip's hand on his arm. "I'll see you later."

Trip let go of him and watched him leave, frowning. Something strange was definitely going on with Malcolm.

* * *

Reed closed the hatch of Engineering behind him and paused for a moment, wondering where he should go next. What had he come to Engineering for, anyway? Trip must be right, he probably wanted to complain about the power cuts; but for the life of him he could not remember. He swallowed hard; this had never happened to him. He had walked to Engineering without knowing why.

Lovely! His brain was in mothballs and his innards were in an iron grip. He briefly considered going back to sickbay, but he didn't have to think long before dismissing the thought: a clean bill of health was a clean bill of health. _Sodding nightmares_, he cursed.

This was going to be a long day, he mulled grimly. He was hardly half way through it and was already tired. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that he had skipped breakfast. _The mess hall it is, then_, he decided, starting along the corridor.

Hoshi was sitting all alone at a table and Malcolm headed for it. He felt uncharacteristically eager to be in someone's company. "Is this seat taken, Ensign?" he asked the young linguist.

"Please, Lieutenant," Hoshi replied with a smile.

Malcolm sat down and didn't waste any time digging into his lunch. He was outright famished. Half way through his meal he raised his eyes to see Hoshi staring at him, and realised he'd been eating quite voraciously. Very un-Reed-like. He swallowed his morsel and consciously slowed down, somewhat embarrassed.

"You look hungry," Hoshi said, without hiding her amusement.

"I didn't have breakfast," Malcolm self-consciously replied as a way of explanation. "Besides, this chicken is lovely," he added.

Hoshi chuckled. "You _must_ be hungry. We've been eating chicken marsala for two years now. You can't find it _that_ delicious," she commented.

Malcolm looked at his plate. Hoshi may have a point, but as far as he was concerned, it felt as if he'd never eaten chicken marsala before. Nothing like a little hunger to make you appreciate food, he thought.

A few more minutes went by in silence, as Malcolm finished his lunch. Putting down his fork and knife, he leaned back in his chair and looked up at Hoshi, who was sipping some kind of beverage and smiling at him.

His hunger had been appeased, but that disturbing feeling of anxiety still lingered. He wondered if he should… He hesitated a moment, then put his qualms aside and spoke.

"Hoshi…"

Hoshi put down her cup and tilted her head questioningly.

"That time when you had that strange experience with the transporter…" Malcolm's voice faltered. He suddenly realised he didn't know how to formulate his question. The whole thing was ridiculous.

Hoshi's brow knitted in a small frown.

"What… was it like?" he finally enquired, narrowing his eyes.

"Disturbing," Hoshi answered after a moment, shooting him a puzzled glance. "I really thought you people couldn't see me any more."

"I meant before you thought you had disappeared. Right after you thought you had been transported back to Enterprise," Malcolm specified.

Hoshi studied him for a moment. "It was very strange. I just didn't feel like my own self," she replied uneasily. She looked away for a brief moment. "Why are you asking me this, Lieutenant?" There was veiled curiosity in her voice.

Malcolm was at a loss as to what to say. He felt stupid for having brought up the subject. Hoshi saw his hesitation and anticipated him.

"I heard Commander Tucker had a hard time transporting you back from the planet yesterday…" she said, leaving the question unspoken.

"Ah, well… not really," Reed replied, feeling another surge of anxiety and striving to keep it out of his voice. "I'm back in one piece," he added with what he hoped would come across as a genuine smile. Seeing Hoshi's perplexed gaze on him, he quickly rose to his feet. "Back to work," he said, grabbing his tray.

"See you at eighteen-hundred hours," Hoshi said as he was leaving.

Malcolm stopped in his tracks and turned to her.

"The senior staff's weekly combat training session..." Hoshi hinted, lifting her eyebrows.

Malcolm quickly recovered. "Be ready for a tough one," he said, hoping Hoshi had missed his blank. "See you then, Ensign."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you for reviewing

Thank you for reviewing. This chapter is a little longer; hope you enjoy it.

444

Archer was leaning against the bulkhead in his ready room, looking out of the porthole at the planet they were orbiting, when the door bell chimed.

"Come," he called, reluctantly dragging his gaze away from the beautiful sight to see who was coming in. "Subcommander," he greeted his SIC.

T'Pol took a couple of steps inside the room and stopped, putting her hands behind her back. "The away teams have almost finished, Captain," she informed him. "The last shuttlepod is scheduled to dock in about an hour."

Archer smiled. "Good," he said. "Anything worth noting?" he asked.

"We will know that after we analyse the samples," T'Pol answered with one of her impassive yet somehow meaningful looks. "However, the teams have reported something happening on the planet that is rather… intriguing," she added.

Archer looked at her inquisitively and waited for her to continue.

"Bursts of electric energy," she said. "The phenomenon only began some twenty minutes ago. It looks like small flashes of lightning, producing cracking sounds. What is curious about them is that they seem to come in patterns that keep repeating."

Archer frowned. "That's odd. Are they close enough to our people to constitute a problem?" he asked.

"No. They do not pose any threat, Captain," T'Pol replied self-assuredly. "The amount of energy is quite limited, not enough to hurt a human being who came into contact with it."

"Something to do with the weather, perhaps?" Archer asked, puzzled.

"I do not believe the phenomenon is weather related," T'Pol replied. "The patterns in it would suggest that it is not natural."

"Then what?" Archer asked with a deep frown. "A… signal of some sort?"

"It is possible. I would like to find out," The Vulcan officer replied with her usual aplomb. She paused for a moment, before asking, "Captain?"

Archer considered her request. "We are explorers…" he said thoughtfully. He met her gaze. "Ask Hoshi to help you. And take no risks," he finally said, giving his consent.

"I had no intentions of taking any," T'Pol replied, raising her eyebrows. "I can conduct my research using our long-range sensors, at least preliminarily."

Archer turned to look out of the porthole again, absorbed in thought. "Make sure the away teams leave the surface as soon as they are finished," he told T'Pol. "I don't want to take any chances."

"Understood," T'Pol replied. "Thank you, Captain."

* * *

"Commander Tucker with Ensign Mayweather; Ensign Sato and Subcommander T'Pol; Captain, you'll spar with me," Malcolm said to the senior officers who had gathered in the gym.

"We'll review punching combinations and kicks," Reed instructed. "Remember your defensive and parrying moves. Let's begin with simple combinations and work our way up." He nodded, and the group split into pairs.

Archer approached him with a mischievous smile. "There can only be two reasons for you to choose me as your sparring partner, Lieutenant," he said playfully. "Either I'm the best and you're planning to have a tough practice session; or I'm the worst and you feel you have to take personal care of me."

"Just your turn, Captain," Malcolm answered with a small smile.

Every week Reed would spar with a different officer. That was to give the person a closer-to-real fighting practice, for they were expected to use a fair amount of power instead of just rehearsing the moves like the rest of the officers.

Malcolm felt brittle and tired, but fortunately this was his last duty of the day. He had spent the afternoon in the Armoury, cooped up in his office doing 'paper work' while struggling to keep his scrambled feelings in check. In a little over three quarters of an hour he would take a long shower and then drop into bed, and, dreams permitting, hopefully tomorrow he'd be back to normal.

"Usual drill, Sir," he reminded Archer. "I attack first; you parry and then attack back."

Malcolm heaved a deep breath, wishing his sluggish brain would allow him to focus, and executed a combination of punches. It felt as if his normally nimble body was moving in slow motion; Archer parried without difficulty and counterattacked. Malcolm deflected the blows and blinked. Good thing this was only a training session; in a real fight today he'd be in trouble, he thought, trying to ignore his underlying anxiety. He was getting good at that, at least, after so many hours.

"Very well, Captain," he said, lowering his guard. He glanced briefly at the other pairs; they seemed to be doing fine. "Ready for something a little more challenging?"

"Sure," Archer replied, taking a defensive stance.

Reed got into position and attacked, using a more complex combination of punches; then he rotated on himself and threw a kick. The movement made his vision swim. Through his daze he saw Archer coming back at him; he reacted and parried a couple of punches, then felt a hard blow on his jaw, and fell backwards, banging his head hard on the floor.

He lay there for a long moment while the room spun and distorted sounds rang in his ears, barely aware of the commotion that was going on around him. Then, through the haze, a familiar voice emerged.

"Malcolm!" Archer was kneeling beside him and was shaking him lightly. Malcolm squinted, trying to focus on his Captain's face. When he finally succeeded, he almost snorted at the astonishment he read in his CO's green eyes.

"Good punch, Sir," he slurred, feeling his jaw.

No one laughed at his joke. Trip was kneeling beside Archer, looking worried and baffled. The other officers were standing nearby, T'Pol with eyebrows fully up. Just what Malcolm liked, being at the centre of everyone's attention. With a grunt he pushed to a sitting position and his vision blurred again. Automatically he squeezed his eyes shut and winced.

"Lieutenant, are you all right?" Archer asked, concern creeping into his voice.

"Yes, Sir. Just give me a minute," Malcolm replied, blinking and rubbing the back of his head.

Archer's voice sounded again. "That will be all for tonight," he said to the others, dismissing them. "Trip, comm. Phlox."

"Sir, there really is no need," Malcolm protested, striving to stand up.

"Malcolm," Archer said warningly, pushing him back down. "Sit still. Or I'll have to punch you again," he added, sounding dead serious. "What in heaven's name happened anyway?" he asked, frowning. "I've never floored you before."

"I…" Malcolm faltered. How was he going to explain to Archer what was going on with him? He didn't know himself. "Got distracted," he eventually said, casting a surreptitious glance at Archer. The Captain was looking at him wide-eyed. But it wasn't a lie really - when one's brain can't concentrate that is called being distracted, isn't it?

"You what?" Archer blurted out in disbelief.

Just then Phlox entered the gym, carrying his medkit.

"Lieutenant, you're a challenging patient today," he greeted him.

Archer looked at the doctor enquiringly and then back at Malcolm, who avoided his gaze uncomfortably.

"What do you mean by that, Doctor?" Archer asked, as Phlox knelt down near Reed.

The Doctor spoke without turning. "Must I remind you the principle of doctor-patient confidentiality, Captain?" he said. He addressed Reed. "What happened, Lieutenant?"

"The Capt'n knocked him flat," Trip informed him, earning himself an incinerating glare from Malcolm.

"Oh, I see," Phlox said, not bothering to hide his amusement as he checked Reed's jaw and his vital signs. "Could this have anything to do with… the problem you complained about this morning?" he asked, turning serious.

"What problem?" Archer demanded.

"Captain," Phlox said, sounding slightly annoyed. "As I said …"

"It's all right, Doctor," Malcolm interrupted him. He turned to Archer. "Sir, I dropped by sickbay this morning because my head felt a little heavy. But the Doctor found nothing wrong with me. I slept badly last night and as a consequence today I haven't been one hundred per cent myself."

Phlox turned off his tricorder and stood up.

"Mr. Reed is fine. No concussion," Phlox told Archer, who sighed in relief. He turned to Malcolm. "However, you do display symptoms of anxiety, Lieutenant, though it is not totally unexpected, considering you are overtired and were just… _knocked flat_, to use Commander Tucker's colourful expression," he said with a small grin. "Other than that, I cannot find anything wrong with you. I suggest you go to bed early and get a good night's sleep. And report to sickbay tomorrow morning for a check-up. If you wish, I can give you something to help you relax."

Malcolm pursed his lips. "Thank you, Doctor, but I'm quite certain I'll be dead to the world the moment my head hits the pillow," he said. He got up and cast Archer a self-conscious glance. "I'm sorry about all this, Captain."

"Forget it, Malcolm," Archer said. "Just get back into shape. Can't afford to have my Armoury Officer feeling off for more than a day or so," he joked.

Malcolm hinted a smile and nodded to his superiors, turning to leave. As he made for the doors, Trip hastened to join him. "I'll walk with you to your quarters," he said, falling in step with him.

* * *

They left the gym and started along the corridor in silence. Malcolm stole a sideways glance and realised that Trip looked like a volcano about to erupt, so when they got to the turbo lift he turned to face him.

"Come on, let's hear it," he said with a sigh.

Trip bit his lip and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You, of all people, get distracted in the middle of a sparring session?" he burst out. "Sorry, but I find that real hard to believe."

The lift doors opened and they stepped inside. Trip pushed the button to B deck, and Malcolm crossed his arms and leaned with a shoulder against the wall. He heaved a tired breath. "You heard what I said. What Phlox said. I didn't sleep well last night and…"

"Don't give me that," Trip interrupted him brusquely. "I've seen you work around the clock and…" Trip cut his sentence short as they got to their destination and the doors opened on an ensign who was standing just outside. They both nodded to the man, who nodded back and disappeared inside the lift. "…And you never had that… lost look like this mornin' in Engineerin'," Trip concluded.

They walked along the corridor.

"Hell, Malcolm, you told me you didn't even know why you were there!" Trip exclaimed.

Malcolm turned his friend's words over in his mind, like when you read a sentence over and over again without understanding it, because your brain is elsewhere. One thing he did understand quite well, though, was that Trip was concerned. Why was Trip concerned? He racked his memory. Right, Trip was concerned because of what had happened with the transporter the day before. But it was ridiculous even to think that his current condition – _state of mind_, he amended – might have anything to do with that. _Nothing_ _really happened_, he repeated to himself. _I am merely tired._

"Malcolm…" Trip ground out, irritated by Malcolm's silence.

"What do you want me to say, that the person you transported back is not Lieutenant Malcolm Reed?" Malcolm burst out, shooting him an annoyed look before stopping in front of his door and banging the heel of his hand on the command to open it. He strode in followed by Trip, who didn't bother to ask if he was welcome.

"I only want you to tell me what's happenin' to you," Trip said in a frustrated tone. "Is that so difficult to understand? I only want to be your friend!"

Malcolm stopped in the middle of the room with his back to Trip. He brought a hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. '_I only want to be your friend… I only want to be your friend_' – the words kept echoing in his mind, making him slightly nauseous. Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm and jumped a mile. Turning abruptly, he saw Trip eye the comm. link, and his befuddled brain was crossed by the unwelcome notion that he might not yet have seen the last of Phlox that day.

"Look, Trip…" he hastened to say before his friend could act on the plan that was undoubtedly forming in his mind. He struggled for words. "I'm not trying to… shut you out. I just don't want you to start worrying unnecessarily," he finally managed.

"Well, it's too late for that, so you better start talkin' to me," Trip replied.

Malcolm closed his eyes and tried to clear the confusion that reigned in his thoughts at the moment. "The truth is, I've felt… unfocused and… on edge since I came back from that planet. But I'm certain it has nothing to do with my… rocky transport back to Enterprise." He paused, feeling his pulse and breathing accelerate in response to the umpteenth rush of adrenaline – blimey, just how much adrenaline could a body produce in one day? He opened his eyes again and found Trip's searching ones studying him.

"Look: Phlox says I'm fine; so it _must_ be just plain tiredness," he mumbled, his voice not sounding very convincing to his own ears.

Trip opened his mouth and replied something. Malcolm heard the sound, but his mind could not grab the words. He frowned, swallowing hard. His breathing got uneven and his face must have shown the alarm he felt, for he registered growing concern in his friend's eyes, and saw Trip's mouth form his name. He slowly shook his head, wincing, and clenched his jaw against the queasiness that was suddenly rising in his throat. Too late, it was a lost battle. With a muttered 'sorry' he stumbled into the bathroom, where for the next minute or so his stomach heaved so violently he was sure it might end up inside out.

Malcolm felt his strength waning fast and was deeply grateful for Trip's hands supporting him. Good grief, he wasn't going to black out in the loo, was he? For he felt weak enough to… crumple… to…

Trip had Malcolm in a firm grip when he suddenly found himself supporting all of his friend's weight and almost toppled under the unexpected burden of Malcolm's limp body.

"Malcolm!" he cried out. But Malcolm was out cold.

Grunting with effort Trip hauled him up against him and grabbed him under his arms, dragging his friend out into the room. He gently laid him on the floor, in the rescue position. Then he pressed the comm. link and paged Phlox.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

555

Archer marched inside sickbay and headed straight for the only occupied biobed. "Doctor?" he asked, looking at his Armoury Officer lying unconscious on it.

Phlox led the Captain away, pulling the privacy curtain around his patient and Trip, who was sitting on a chair beside the bed.

"Captain, I just carried out a thorough check-up of Lieutenant Reed and medically speaking I can't say there is much wrong with him," Phlox said, looking perplexed. "All I did find is a chemical imbalance in his neurotransmitters: it would appear he suffered something like a panic attack. Commander Tucker's description of the Lieutenant's confusion could also be consistent with that."

"A panic attack?" Archer glanced towards the closed curtain. "Do you think it's possible that this might have anything to do with Malcolm's transport back to Enterprise?"

Phlox thought for a moment before answering. "It's difficult to say," he eventually replied. "I checked the Lieutenant right after he was transported, and he was fine. But I must admit that it _is_ curious that the beginning of Mr. Reed's symptoms should coincide with his return from the planet. Unless…" he added pensively. "The experience could have been more upsetting than he is willing to admit, even to himself, and might have triggered his present state of anxiety," he suggested.

Archer heaved a deep breath. "I'll check on Trip; I think he's blaming himself for this," he said to Phlox, who nodded.

The Captain walked to the curtain and pulled a corner aside. Trip looked quite tense.

"Apparently there is nothing seriously wrong with Malcolm," Archer said reassuringly, entering the enclosed space.

Trip turned to shoot him a disconcerted look. "You weren't the one who kept him from collapsin' on top of the head, and you didn't see him lookin' at you as if he didn't understand a word you said!" he exclaimed. Then he added, meaningfully, "Although you were the one who knocked him out cold in the middle of a _routine_ trainin' session."

"Yesterday's transport has almost certainly nothing to do with all this," the Captain continued, ignoring the engineer's words. "Try not to worry so much, Trip. You did nothing wrong."

"Capt'n, you weren't the one who pulled them levers either," Trip replied grimly. "Or I bet you'd be worryin' too."

"I worry for all my crew," Archer reminded him, trying to keep his voice neutral. He knew Trip hadn't really meant to imply he didn't.

"I'm sorry, Capt'n. I know you do," Trip murmured, shaking his head regretfully. "It's that… this can't just be a coincidence. Malcolm looked confused the moment he re-materialised and since then he's only been gettin' worse," he concluded bitterly.

"Phlox says he had a panic attack," Archer said, squeezing Trip's shoulder.

Trip turned to Archer, his brow knitted in a frown. "Well, now that's reassurin', Capt'n," he huffed. "When was the last time you knew Malcolm to have a panic attack?"

Archer didn't reply. Although he had never seen Reed panic, he suspected that his aquaphobia had most likely caused him a few attacks in the past. But Trip was not privy to that information, and Archer wasn't about to disclose it, even if it would have eased the engineer's concern.

Just then Malcolm stirred, his eyes cracking open.

Archer's hand left Trip's shoulder and went to Reed's arm. "Lieutenant," he called softly.

Malcolm turned his head to the sound of Archer's voice and blinked. "What happened?" he slurred, taking in his surroundings.

Archer saw the disorientation in Malcolm's eyes and wondered how much, if anything, the lieutenant could remember. He decided to keep the answer simple. "You fainted. You're in sickbay," he just said.

Malcolm grunted, closing his eyes. "Brilliant," he mumbled. He opened his eyes again and focused them on the Captain, before shifting them to Trip. "Why? What happened?" he repeated.

"You were sick. After the trainin' session. In your quarters," Trip replied, watching Malcolm closely for any sign of recollection.

Malcolm seemed to look right through him for a moment. Then his eyes showed his memory clearly returning.

"Thanks for… well, you know," Malcolm trailed, meeting Trip's gaze.

Trip smirked and said, "If you wanted me not to worry, that wasn't the best way, ya know?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to upset you," Malcolm replied. He pushed to a sitting position, letting his legs dangle off the side of the bed and grabbing the edge with both hands.

"I'm not sure Phlox would approve of you getting up, Malcolm," Archer warned.

As if on cue, the Doctor appeared. "Ah, Mr. Reed. Hello again. How are you feeling?" he enquired.

Reed considered the question. "I'm not sure, Doctor," he said dryly. "Fine, although somewhat… scrambled, I suppose."

"To the best of my knowledge you suffered a panic attack," Phlox informed him.

"Lovely," Reed commented, wincing uncomfortably and looking away.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"More or less." Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was in my quarters with Commander Tucker. I felt agitated and… muddled. All of a sudden I could not make out the Commander's words. I was overcome by nausea and… well, I was sick and everything went dark."

"Any lingering anxiety, confusion?"

"Not at the moment; but they have been coming and going," Malcolm said. "Am I free to return to my quarters?" he asked, looking at Phlox with undisguised hope in his eyes. "I do feel all right now."

Phlox thought for a moment. "I will give you something to help you relax," he said, moving off.

"You sure you wouldn't rather spend the night in sickbay?" Archer asked, completely serious.

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "Quite certain, Sir."

Phlox returned and pressed a hypospray to Reed's neck. "This will help you sleep. I can see no reason for keeping you here overnight," he said thoughtfully. "However, I want you to report to sickbay for another check-up first thing in the morning," he warned, seeing Reed ready to jump off the bed.

"Understood, Doctor," Malcolm obliged.

* * *

Malcolm's eyes flashed open. He lay still on his bed for a few moments, unblinkingly looking at the grey ceiling. Then he tossed the covers aside and got up. He pulled on his uniform and boots, and left his quarters.

He walked confidently along the dimmed corridor on B deck all the way to the turbolift. Getting inside, he looked at the buttons for a moment, before pushing one.

* * *

O'Rourke hated working the night shift. He really wished there was a way to avoid it, but everyone, even the senior staff, took turns. But he did hate it. He just couldn't function well beyond a certain hour. It didn't make sense, he knew it: on a starship you couldn't _really_ tell the night from the day, but… Hearing the doors to the launch bay opening he turned to see who was the unlucky person who shared his trouble – a trouble shared is a troubled halved. Lieutenant Reed came in.

"Good evening, Sir," he greeted him, immediately straightening his shoulders. The man was a superior officer, and besides: you simply didn't slouch in front of Lieutenant Reed.

Reed looked at him in silence for a moment, making him cringe – what was it about the relatively unimpressive lieutenant that gave him such an air of authority? – Then he simply moved off.

O'Rourke watched him in puzzlement. Not very Reed-like. What was he doing here at this time anyway? It wasn't that long since the Armoury Officer had worked the night shift; and the ship's grapevine had it that the lieutenant had been overpowered in a combat training session by the Captain and had ended up in sickbay. O'Rourke couldn't help smiling at the mental image.

He watched Reed cross to a shuttlepod and open its hatch. Something about him was strange, the way he walked perhaps – not as graceful as usual. O'Rourke just couldn't put his finger on it. _I really should mind my own business,_ he thought. But his feet took him to the pod and he peeked inside. Reed seemed busy powering up the shuttle.

"Is there an away mission scheduled, Sir?" the Ensign asked.

Reed froze, without speaking, his very silence making him even more intimidating.

O'Rourke swallowed and cursed his nosiness: if the gossip was true, Reed must not be in a very good mood. _Well, no going back now_, he thought. "...Sir?" he enquired hesitantly.

Reed slowly turned to look at him with icy-blue eyes. "Yes?" he simply said.

"I was told by Commander Tucker to do a complete check-up of the pods; I thought no more teams were going down to the surface," O'Rourke replied. "Are there new orders I am not aware of?"

Reed jumped out of the pilot seat, suddenly looking quite agitated. Something appeared to be really wrong with the Lieutenant. His breathing had accelerated and his face showed a battle of sorts going on within him.

"Are you all right, Lieutenant?" the ensign enquired nervously. When no answer came, O'Rourke knew the man really wasn't. He took a step back, saying, "I'll be right back, Sir."

He turned to get to the comm. link. He was wondering whether he should wake up his CO after paging sickbay when suddenly his world went dark.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

666

"Bridge to Captain Archer… Captain Archer..."

There was urgency in the voice, Archer slowly realised, as his mind floated in the mist of drowsiness. He jumped up from the bed and stumbled to the comm. link. "Archer," he shot out, and Porthos briefly raised his head to look at him before lowering it again.

"Captain, a shuttlepod just launched without authorisation," the tense voice of the ensign in charge of the bridge replied. "Scans read one person on board."

Archer frowned. "Hail them," he ordered, as he grabbed his uniform and began to pull it on.

"I've already tried, Sir. No reply," the ensign answered.

"Wake up Subcommander T'Pol and Lieutenant Reed," Archer said. "I'll be right there."

When Archer entered the bridge a few minutes later, T'Pol was already sitting at her station, as unruffled as this weren't the middle of night and she hadn't just been woken up for an emergency.

"Report," Archer ordered.

She turned to him. "Captain, Lieutenant Reed did not answer his page," she said. "He…"

"Well, send someone to his quarters," Archer interrupted her with a touch of irritation. "I'd like my Tactical Officer's thoughts on whatever is going on here."

T'Pol, as always, seemed unaffected by his mood. "According to my scans, Mr. Reed is on his way to the planet," she said in her flat tone. "And he is not answering hails," she added.

Archer's facial muscles tensed. "What about the people working in the launch bay?" he asked tautly after a brief pause. If, as it appeared, Malcolm wasn't in his right mind, the man had the training to be quite dangerous.

"There was only Ensign O'Rourke: he has been taken to sickbay. He was rendered unconscious and the Doctor is treating him now. It appears the Lieutenant dragged him out of the bay before launching."

"Thank God for that," Archer murmured. "Wake up Trip," he told his Science Officer. "We need to go after Malcolm."

T'Pol relayed the order to a crewman; then turned to her CO. "Captain, I advise caution. We cannot rule out that the phenomenon Ensign Sato and I have been studying might have something to do with Lieutenant Reed's… uncharacteristic behaviour," she said.

Archer frowned. "To my ready room", he curtly instructed. As soon as they were inside he turned to face T'Pol. "Would you mind telling me what you're talking about?" he demanded. "I thought you said the phenomenon was not dangerous."

"Ensign Sato and I have not been able to ascertain yet what those energy bursts are," the Vulcan Officer said, without losing her composure. "If it's a signal of some sort, it could mean the planet is inhabited."

"Our sensors haven't picked up any life forms," Archer countered.

"That doesn't necessarily mean there aren't any," T'Pol calmly replied. "This recent event casts a new light on our research."

Archer considered her words. "Even if this were true, how would it be connected to Malcolm's actions?" he asked.

T'Pol cocked an eyebrow. "I do not know, Captain. All I am saying is that we ought to take the possibility into consideration and use the necessary caution."

Archer's brow furrowed, as he weighed his options. Just then the chime rang and Trip let himself in without waiting for Archer's answer.

"What's goin' on, Captain?" he enquired straightaway. "I heard Malcolm is on his way to the planet. He wasn't exactly fit for a mission," he said, frowning.

"No one sent him on any mission," Archer replied, looking Trip straight in the eye. "He stole a pod and is not answering hails."

"What?" The engineer chocked out. He ruffled his already tousled hair. "How…"

"We don't know," Archer interrupted him. "And just now T'Pol was telling me that those bursts of energy we detected on the planet might really be some sort of signal, which would mean that despite our sensors' readings the place could be inhabited."

Trip's eyes narrowed. "Are you sayin' Malcolm is bein'… controlled by some life form through these… signals?" he asked after a moment.

"Although I do not have any scientific explanation, it is a possibility," T'Pol commented.

"Then his confusion…" Trip's voice trailed as his mind considered the implications.

A moment of silence fell in the room. Archer leaned against the bulkhead, looking at the planet out of the porthole, deep in thought.

"Well, what are we gonna do about it?" Trip finally burst out. "We can't just leave him to these… bursts of energy!"

"Trip, meet me with Hoshi in the transporter room," Archer ordered abruptly, turning to face him. "T'Pol, you have the bridge."

"Captain," T'Pol said in as urgent a tone as her Vulcan control allowed her. "It could be dangerous to expose more crewmembers to those energy bursts. Why not transport the Lieutenant back to Enterprise?" she suggested.

"What good would that do?" the Captain countered. "It wouldn't free Malcolm of whatever is controlling him. I'm not going to sit on my hands while a member of my crew might be in danger. We need to find out what's going on down there. And if there is a life form, we need to find a way to communicate with it. I'm hoping Hoshi will be able to do just that."

* * *

"Capt'n, I thought I'd be going with you!" Trip complained from beside the transporter's console.

"There is no need for a Chief Engineer on this mission," Archer replied firmly as he studied Hoshi's pale face. "And you're my first choice when it comes to scrambling our molecules," he added meaningfully.

Trip shot him a look that meant he knew the Captain had said that to make him regain confidence in his transporting abilities. But he said nothing and took up position behind the console, his muscles automatically tensing up.

"You coming, Hoshi?" Archer enquired, raising his eyebrows.

The young ensign didn't look particularly eager to step onto the transporter area but cleared her throat and replied, "Yes, Sir." Swallowing, she joined her captain.

"Energise, Commander," Archer ordered with a reassuring smile.

Trip concentrated on the controls before him and worked the levers, watching his friends disintegrate. He held his breath until two blips on his readings told him they had arrived safely on the planet.

* * *

Archer cast a glance at Hoshi, who was biting her lip in a worried expression, and squeezed her arm reassuringly. They had re-materialised in a clearing. Silhouetted in the dark a couple of hundred metres away, Archer could make out the shape of the shuttlepod. It was night on the planet; not pitch dark, thanks to the planet's two moons, but the thick vegetation made the atmosphere quite eerie.

Archer switched on his flashlight and checked his scanner, moving it around in a circular motion. He stopped when it picked up Reed's biosigns. "That way," he told Hoshi. "Some five-hundred metres straight ahead."

They began to walk, wading through some rather tall and somewhat sticky grass that seemed to want to hold them back.

After a few minutes Hoshi grabbed the Captain's arm and pointed to a spot in the distance. "Over there, Sir," she said tensely.

"Yes, that's what we are looking for," Archer replied, watching a cluster of short flashes of light dancing in the dark. Squinting, he saw a familiar form standing still in front of them. "Come on," he urged the linguist.

"Malcolm," Archer called, when they were a few metres away. His Armoury Officer did not reply, nor did he move a muscle. He might as well have been a statue. Now that they were close, they could hear also the popping sounds that accompanied each burst of energy.

Suddenly the crackling sounds stopped and it was dark all around them.

"Lieutenant Reed," Archer called in his command voice, hoping Malcolm would respond to it. They closed the gap between them and Archer gently grabbed his arm and shook it. Nothing happened. Reed held his unblinking eyes fixed on a spot right in front of him.

"Have you worked out any intelligible pattern in those lights, Hoshi?" Archer asked, checking Reed's biosigns on his scanner. They seemed to be strong.

"Sir, it's not an easy task," Hoshi replied in frustration. "I probably can, provided these _are_ signals of some sort, but it could take hours, or even days." She knitted her brow. "It reminds me of that time we found an alien life form in cargo bay two. That was quite a challenge too," she said pensively.

"Well, whatever they are, they are gone now," Archer commented. "We've got to get Malcolm back to the shuttlepod."

The Captain put himself in front of Reed and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Malcolm," he called a little louder, giving him a rougher shake.

"Captain!"

Hoshi's urgent voice wasn't the only thing that made Archer turn abruptly: the popping sounds were back; louder now for they came in unison, as did the lights pulsating before them. It was a strange sight, and yet it had something strangely familiar to it. Archer watched in fascination, aware that he could sense no danger; he hoped he wouldn't be proven wrong, but he felt the energy bursts meant no harm.

"Hoshi?" Archer asked after a long moment.

Hoshi was biting the inside of her cheeks. "There is something about them…" she murmured, narrowing her eyes in concentration.

"I am Captain Archer, of the starship Enterprise," Archer said. One never knew...

"Morse code!" suddenly Hoshi burst out. "Captain, I know this sounds ridiculous, but I'm pretty sure this is Morse code," she repeated, excitement in her voice.

Archer shot her a puzzled glance, before returning it to the pulsating energy bursts. "Morse code? Can you remember any of it?"

Hoshi did not reply. "Four dots, one dot …" She bit her lip. "'H… E… Hello'! Captain, they are saying hello," she said with conviction.

"I'll be damned," Archer replied without taking his eyes off the phenomenon. "I suppose we should answer," he added. He turned to Hoshi, who was looking at him expectantly. "Well, get your flashlight out and make the introductions."

* * *

A few minutes later Hoshi's eyes went wide. "Sir, these are incorporeal beings," she relayed in a tense voice. "They are saying one of them has gotten inside Lieutenant Reed."

"What?" Archer exclaimed.

"Sir, they say the life form inside Lieutenant Reed is trying to leave but is unable to do so," the linguist continued. She bit her lip as she concentrated on the pulsing lights. "It seems to be trapped inside the Lieutenant's mind," she added.

Archer pursed his lips in frustration and studied Reed. His breathing had accelerated and his face was beginning to show signs of discomfort. The Captain looked at his scanner, checking once again Malcolm's biosigns.

"Tell them that that being must stop doing whatever it's doing," he told Hoshi imperatively. "Malcolm's vital signs are becoming erratic."

Hoshi translated her Captain's words into Morse Code. There was a moment of silence, broken only by Reed's ragged breathing. Then the energy bursts flashed again.

"Sir, it's refusing to do so. The being inside Malcolm is not well and is struggling to get free," Hoshi said, concern clear in her voice.

All of a sudden Reed cried out in pain and doubled over, holding his head. Archer grabbed him and lowered him to the ground, kneeling beside him. "Malcolm!" he called to him, trying to shake him out of his trance. But the Lieutenant could not hear him. He was gasping in pain, his body tense and his face scrunched up in a grimace.

"Tell that damn thing to stop whatever it's doing!" Archer barked out again.

Hoshi quickly obeyed, trying to concentrate on the job at hand and shut out the sight of Reed writhing under Archer's hands.

"Sir, they say it is the Lieutenant who's trapping it," Hoshi said after a long moment. "He's fighting its presence inside his mind and the being cannot break free. They fear they are going to kill each other. We have to find a way to make the Lieutenant stop fighting his guest."

"Damn!" Archer cursed under his breath. Reed had curled up on himself, his face pale and sweaty, and he was grunting with pain. Archer clenched his jaw and urged his brain to find a solution. After a moment he got up, a determined look in his eyes. Under Hoshi's bewildered gaze he reached for his phase pistol and checked the setting.

"Move away, Hoshi," he told the linguist.

"Captain…" Hoshi stuttered, guessing what he wanted to do.

"That was an order, Ensign," Archer said firmly.

The linguist obeyed and got a fair distance from Reed. Archer also backed up a few metres, to minimise the consequences of the blast. Taking a deep breath, he stretched out his arm, aimed and fired. The beam got Malcolm square on his left shoulder, and the Lieutenant's body immediately went limp.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you for reading this story and reviewing it. I was glad to receive your input.

777

Malcolm came around with an audible intake of breath. He blinked a couple of times and reached out blindly for support, even if he was lying on the ground with no chance of falling. Archer instinctively grabbed him and Reed startled, turning unrecognising eyes to him. He stared at Archer for a moment; then slowly turned to study his unfamiliar surroundings.

"Easy, Malcolm," Archer said softly, not daring to let go of him.

Reed turned to him again. "…Captain?" he croaked out in surprise.

Archer kept his voice low and calm. "Yes. Everything is all right, Lieutenant," he said.

Except for the beams of their flashlights, darkness surrounded them now. The beings had gone.

"Sir," Reed asked hesitantly after a long moment. "…Where are we?"

"On the planet."

Reed's brow furrowed. "When… how… why are we…" He shook his head and winced.

"It's a long story," Archer replied with a sigh. "Are you all right?" he asked.

As a reply Reed pushed to a sitting position and a groan escaped him; he grabbed his left shoulder, closing his eyes tightly. Archer grimaced under Hoshi's sympathetic gaze.

"What happened?" Reed choked out, moving his shoulder in an effort to ease the pain out of it. "Was I shot?"

"Ah…" Archer trailed and Reed stopped and turned to look up at him, frowning. "I had to stun you, Lieutenant," the Captain finally admitted with a self-conscious smirk.

Reed stared at him, obviously puzzled, slowly shaking his head again.

"I'll tell you everything while we walk to the shuttlepod," Archer said. "Come on, let's get back to Enterprise."

He helped Reed to his feet; then silently put the right arm of his for-once-compliant Armoury Officer across his shoulders and they started back to the pod.

* * *

Archer exchanged a glance with Hoshi and turned from his pilot seat to look at the back of the pod, where Reed was sitting with his head in his hands.

"Soon we'll be home, Malcolm," he said soothingly.

Reed gave him a weary smile. "Home, sweet home," he murmured.

"Would you like some water, Lieutenant?" Hoshi asked, handing him a canteen, which Reed gratefully accepted.

"How are you feeling?" Archer enquired, casting a glance over his shoulder.

"I suppose it could be worse, Sir," Malcolm replied. He unscrewed the canteen's cap and took a long gulp of water. "I just hope you have nothing else in store for me today," he added jokingly. "Being knocked out and stunned in the space of a few hours is bad enough for my self-esteem."

Archer chuckled. "I guess I'll refrain from throwing you in the brig for stealing a shuttlepod, then," he replied. The relief of having his Armoury Officer back safe had restored his good mood. And after all this first contact technically couldn't be called hostile – although Malcolm might think otherwise.

He opened a comm. link to Enterprise. "Mind opening the door, Subcommander? There's someone here who's eager to get at least twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep," he said with an amused glance at Reed.

"Opening launch bay doors and extending docking arm, Captain," T'Pol's replied.

"Welcome home," Trip's cheerful voice sounded in the background.

A few moments later the away party emerged from the pod, and were met by T'Pol, Trip and Doctor Phlox.

"You were right, Subcommander," Archer said with a full smile. "There was a sentient species on the planet. Those energy bursts were incorporeal beings."

"Well, what did they want?" Trip asked. "Why did they… kidnap Malcolm?"

"They didn't mean to," Archer explained. "Seeing our people on the planet, one of them got curious. Disobeying their species' directives, it decided to see what life inside a body would be like. Unfortunately it chose Malcolm as a host just as he was being transported back to Enterprise. It could be said that… the kidnapper got kidnapped," Archer said with a chuckle.

"Just my luck," Reed commented bleakly under his breath. "I go down to the planet for one hour and look what happens."

Trip eyed him. "So, the contaminant in the readings… and Malcolm's confusion, his lack of concentration…" he trailed.

"It was the presence of his 'guest' that caused all that," Archer said. "Is that right, Doctor?" he asked Phlox, who was passing a tricorder over Malcolm.

"A very sound theory, Captain," Phlox confirmed.

"What about my anxiety?" Malcolm asked, moving his sore shoulder and grimacing. "At times it was quite overwhelming."

"I believe that was your unconscious reaction to being… invaded by another being. Your mind sensed there was a threat, even if it could not consciously perceive it," Phlox expounded.

"The perfect Security Officer," Trip chuckled, echoed by the others.

Malcolm shot the engineer a look.

"It was probably a little like an allergic reaction," Phlox explained. "The longer the being was inside Mr. Reed's body, the worse his symptoms got."

"Hoshi and I were told your guest wasn't doing that great either, Malcolm," Archer said. "Apparently it was affected by your anxiety."

"Well, who wasn't," Trip blurted out, earning himself another furious glare.

"After a while the being also became quite worried that it wouldn't be able to return to its planet," Archer continued. "It decided its only chance was to take over its host altogether. This, however, ended up triggering a more serious reaction on Malcolm's part. He unconsciously fought the presence of the being in his mind, effectively weakening the life form and preventing it from leaving."

Phlox frowned, lowering his tricorder. "Lieutenant, you seem to be fine except… did someone stun you?" he asked.

Reed exchanged a glance with Archer.

"The unconscious fight with that being was taking its toll on Malcolm," the Captain explained. "His life signs were becoming erratic, but I didn't seem to be able to make him snap out of his trance. So I stunned him, hoping this would allow Malcolm's guest to leave. Fortunately it worked."

"I'm sorry I didn't manage to detect your guest, Lieutenant," Phlox told Reed regretfully. "My scans didn't show anything wrong, except for that chemical imbalance. But it wasn't enough to arouse my suspicions."

"No need to apologise, Doctor," Malcolm replied sincerely.

"The beings were very sorry about their rebel's little stunt. They apologised profusely," Archer said. "I don't think they need to worry that it may try again," he added with a soft laugh.

"Captain," T'Pol's aristocratic voice said. "How did you communicate with them?"

"Hoshi did," Archer replied with a wink to his Comm. Officer. "Using Morse code."

"That seems… odd," T'Pol offered, her poised voice in stark contrast to the bewildered look on Trip's face.

"The beings realised the fastest way to communicate with us would be using information Malcolm's guest could get from his memory," Archer explained.

"How lovely, to have someone rummage through your memories," Malcolm ranted under his breath.

"Good thing Hoshi remembered Morse code," the Captain added wryly.

"Into the decon chamber, you three," Phlox prompted, with a shooing gesture to the returned party. "Lieutenant Reed needs to get some rest, and the sooner he goes through decon, the sooner he'll be able to do so."

"Take the whole day off, Malcolm," Archer ordered his exhausted-looking Armoury Officer as they moved off.

"Thank you, Sir," Reed replied gratefully. "I could really use it," he admitted.

"Well, it's the least I can do; I need to be forgiven after all I did to you lately," Archer chuckled, squeezing his arm.

Reed smiled. As they were walking the Lieutenant suddenly stopped in his tracks, struck by a sudden thought. "Captain," he asked hesitantly. "How exactly did I… manage to get hold of the shuttlepod?"

"Uhm, by… giving Ensign O'Rourke a nasty headache," Archer replied with a grimace.

Reed closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Well, then I suppose I too need to be forgiven. I will have to be extra kind to the man for a while," he murmured grimly.

Epilogue

"Daydreamin'?" Trip asked, as he approached Reed, who was leaning against the bulkhead near the porthole in the observation lounge, looking down at the planet they were still orbiting.

Reed turned to his friend. "Thinking," he replied. "It's great to be able to do so again without losing the thread every moment," he added, meaning every word.

Trip dropped to sit in a chair. "You look rested. Feelin' better?"

Malcolm sighed in relief. "Definitely." He joined his friend at the table. "I slept like a log," he said with a happy smirk. "How is O'Rourke?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"He's ok, don't worry. His head is way too hard to run any serious risk of bein' cracked," Trip joked. "You gave him a real good scare, though. Even more than you usually do, I mean," he added with a mischievous grin.

Malcolm disregarded the gibe and averted his gaze. "I keep thinking that he could have been killed," he murmured. "If I hadn't dragged him out of the launch bay…"

"But you did," Trip said firmly. "I guess you were still in there, somewhere."

Malcolm turned to him and looked pointedly into Trips' eyes. "O'Rourke is not the only person I gave a good scare to," he said, raising his eyebrows.

Trip shook his head. "Hope you're not plannin' to do that to me very often," he said. "Anyway, I'm glad it wasn't the transport which caused you all those problems."

"I never _honestly_ believed that it was the transport which was responsible for what was happening to me," Malcolm said. "Although, if truth be told, the thought did cross my befuddled mind for a brief moment," he admitted.

"Oh, well, thanks for the vote of confidence," Trip exclaimed in mock outrage.

Reed chuckled. "You're welcome, Commander."

"Do you remember anything from when you were on the planet?" Trip asked after a moment, with open curiosity.

Malcolm winced. "Nothing too clearly. It's as if I woke up after running a high fever: I only have lingering sensations but no specific memories," he answered. "All I know is that they are not pleasant."

"Well, this whole business did have its redeeming aspects," Trip suggested after another moment of silence.

Malcolm squirmed. "And what, pray, would they be?"

"Well, for one I was able to leave your _precious_ Armoury virtually juiceless for the good part of a day without having to duel with you to the death …"

"You were lucky we didn't need to use my _precious_ weapons during that time," Reed answered peevishly.

"But best of all…" Trip trailed and chuckled.

Malcolm huffed. "I know what you're going to say, so just say it and let's move on."

"Uh-oh, it's not what you're thinkin', Malcolm," Trip replied, shaking his head.

"I know you too well, Trip. You're dying to pull my leg for..."

"You've got to admit," Trip interrupted him. "The look in the Capt'n's eyes when he floored you really _was_ a knockout," he said, snorting loudly.

Malcolm froze for a brief moment. Then he groaned. "That was the worst joke I've heard in a long time, Commander," he said.

"What, you think it didn't have enough punch, Lieutenant?" Trip continued, mimicking a blow at Malcolm's jaw.

Malcolm's mouth twitched. Trip's mood was, as always, quite infectious, and the Lieutenant couldn't but burst into a liberating laughter.

THE END


End file.
